In the Clink
by TrooperCam
Summary: After the arrest what next? Officially AU since QSS answers what happened in the canon. FINAL Chapter UP. Please read and review. Thanks
1. INTAKE

INTAKE

Officer Dan Johnson sat bored behind the counter of the Precinct Three Intake Counter glancing through the People Magazine he picked up at the 7-11 on his way in. "God," he thought to himself, "This sucks." Officer Johnson didn't typically do Intake, but a lingering back injury meant he was passing his days working the night shift at the County Jail. It was a Tuesday night and the only sounds Johnson heard were the slow rhythmic ticking of the wall clock taunting him, counting off the minutes till his shift was over. Weeknights were the worst Johnson thought; at least the weekend promised the chance of a few drunk and disorderly. It wasn't even past final call, a time the action picked up as the few drunks unlucky enough to make their inebriation known to the police got a one way trip to lockup.

The boredom and soft ticking of the clock lured Johnson into a drowsy half sleep so when the station doors open he was jostled back to full consciousness. In front of him was Detective Michael Tritter half leading, half pushing a man up to the counter. Johnson knew of Tritter, the man was something of a hard ass around the station, a real reputation for not being one to fuck around with. Tritter was a heavy smoker and was trying to quit which made his attitude go from a bear to one that just got woken up from hibernation. Johnson didn't like him and was glad they typically worked opposite shift. Strange though, he thought, Tritter usually didn't work nights. Whatever this poor slob had done, it was enough to get the bear riled up. Johnson watched the man as he limped slowly towards the counter. The man's blue eyes stared straight ahead, betraying none of the emotions, but Johnson saw the man couldn't keep it all hidden. The lines in his face showed clearly the frustration and pain as he made his way slowly to the counter. The two finally made it and the man leaned into the counter the weight of his body resting on his stomach, relief washing over his features. Johnson turned back to the arresting officer

"Charge?"

"Driving under the Influence, Resisting Arrest and Possession of a narcotic."

Johnson was glad he was looking down at the paperwork, for the other man couldn't see his eyebrows rise at this last charge. Was Tritter serious? One look at the guy and you could tell this wasn't some junkie. Johnson pushed the thoughts out of his head and returned to the paperwork. He regarded the other man carefully," Okay, I got him now." Tritter took one last look at his prisoner but the man continued to stare straight ahead. As Tritter left, Johnson came around the front of the desk, took his keys out of his pocket and undid the man's left cuff," You'll still have to wear them for in processing, but this will be more comfortable," he said as he cuffed the man's hands together in the front.

"Thank you," the man's voice was barely above a whisper but Johnson could hear the relief flood in. He watched as the man placed his hand's out supporting the entire weight of his body on his hands and left leg.

"Name?"

"Gregory House"


	2. PROCESSING

PROCESSING

Officer Tony Romano, the processing sergeant regarded his newest charge with the strange mix of loathing and curiosity he had for everyone unlucky enough to get caught. It was late, a slow night and this sorry sack was the closest thing to excitement the entire night. The first thing he noticed wasn't the limp, but the hands, or more importantly the fact that they weren't cuffed behind the man's back. They were long and clean, not the usual mix of blood and dirt that marked the late night crowd. That was the first tip that something was different about this one. The next thing he noticed was the clothes, "nice" he thought to himself," that jacket probably set him back a bit."

"Charge?"

"Driving under the Influence, Resisting, and possession of a narcotic." Johnson's tone was even and measured nothing to differentiate this guy from the thousands of others that passed through the station every year. But, there was something different about this guy, Johnson's demeanor was different and the frankly the guy didn't look intoxicated. He wasn't loud, didn't smell of alcohol or any other indication that he was under the influence, but Romano well knew looks could be deceiving, "still," he thought, "something was off about this".

As he led the man around the counter to the fingerprinting station he noticed the limp as well as the thin sheen of sweat breaking out on the guy's forehead and the way he bit his lip with every step," a cripple," Romano thought, "explains the DUI." The process to book a suspect is slow and methodical, fingerprinting and pictures must be done to specifications, Romano could see every step of the process was torture for the guy and as he led his prisoner to the holding cell he honestly couldn't tell who was more thankful for the reprieve.

A/N Thanks for all of the feedback. I have decided to continue with this story, but from this point on we will call it an AU because I suspect with tomorrow night's episode I will be Jossed and how I see this story ending won't be what happens. Anyways, thanks for reading.


	3. THE LONG WALK

THE LONG WALK

The metallic clank was the first indication that Dave was getting a visitor. "This is good," he thought though the very act of thinking made his alcohol addled brain hurt. At least this new distraction would allow him to keep his mind off the ten ton beast currently set behind his eyeballs and off the thought that maybe driving drunk, backwards, down Princeton's main drag wasn't such a good idea, even if Joey did. The thought of Joey made Dave's brain hurt in a whole new way. The little shirker had gotten off with a verbal tongue lashing from the cops while Dave had gotten the very special cuff and stuff treatment. Apparently arguing that it was your buddy's idea wasn't a good defense; Dave would have to remember that next time.

"wakey wakey," The cop was one Dave knew well. Generally, he left Dave alone, preferring to let him sleep it off but sometimes he just instinctively knew when the drills were going off in Dave's brain and delighted in talking just a tad bit too loud for Dave's comfort. "You're getting a friend." Dave looked over with mild indifference at the latest intrusion but the sight of the guy limping made him take note. "Jesus," thought Dave,"What the hell did this guy do to deserve that?" The guy he noted just stared straight ahead, taking slow choppy steps, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, his hair damp. The officer opened the cell and the guy walked in bee lining to the nearest wall and sliding slowly down, his right leg sticking straight out as he leaned against the dingy wall.

"Hey man you okay?" Dave walked over and crouched by his new cellmate.

"I'm fine." The man's demeanor said one thing but his voice had an edge to it like a dog that had been poked with a stick one too many times. Dave quickly decided not to press the issue and retreated to the cement bench on the opposite side of the cell. At least this Dave decided would give him something to think about before he gets released in the morning.


	4. BAIL

James Wilson looked down at the form he was filling out and sighing softly he looked over the list of charges, resisting arrest, speeding, driving without a license, possession of a Class 3 narcotic, "Jesus," he thought, " House really went and did a number this time." He looked once more at the amount of bail 150 thousand dollars was a lot and even ten percent was a lot to get at one time. Wilson cringed as he handed the cashiers check for 15 thousand dollars over to the clerk. He had always been a saver, socking money away for a rainy day, but lately the rainy days tended more and more to be related to House. That man was going to bleed him dry faster than any of his ex wives Wilson thought ruefully.

Wilson went to wait outside; the stuffy atmosphere of the Municipal Center was getting to him and frankly pacing in a courthouse just looked suspicious. House's phone call had been brief; he just told Wilson he needed his spare cane brought to the courthouse when Wilson came to bail him out. No more was said and House had cut the call short when Wilson had pressed for details. Now, as Wilson waited for his scruffy friend to exit the courthouse he swore this was it, this was going to be the last time he bailed House out of a jam. This time he meant it.

The End

A/N DUDE I totally called it, right down to the drunk guy in the cell with House. I must be psycho...or else I have watched way to many cop programs. Anyways, this is it, the end of the line. Thanks for taking the ride with me, please use caution opening the overhead bins as luggage may have shifted during flight. Please collect all belongings. We know that you have many options in your fanfiction readership and we thank you for choosing our story, and ask that you choose us again in the future.

Yeah, I travel a lot...can you tell?


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